CHAPTER 2

"Grab your gear!"

How many times over the years had they heard Gibbs call out those words? This time the victim was a young woman, Lieutenant Commander Carrie McLellan, found face down in a pond in the middle of DC. At first it seemed to be business as usual but then Gibbs started acting in a very un-Gibbs-like manner. First of all, he left the crime scene without any explanation and the team had to finish processing the evidence on their own. They were perfectly capable of doing so, but it was unusual enough for Ziva, McGee and Tony to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

Then, a couple of hours later, they watched from the bullpen as Gibbs escorted a good-looking man in his fifties upstairs for a private word with Vance.

Following Gibbs and the visitor with suspicious eyes, Ziva hissed, "Who is that? He walks like a soldier."

Tony replied, "Not a soldier, a Marine. Gibbs' old Desert Storm buddy, Senator Patrick Kiley. The one who's been trying to push that big energy bill through. Vote's coming up in a few days."

"You think the senator's a suspect?" asked McGee in a low voice.

Tony said firmly, "No. If he was, he'd already be in interrogation."

"Perhaps Gibbs is doing him a favor," suggested Ziva.

Tony shook his head. "I don't care who he is, Gibbs would never do anything to harm the integrity of an investigation." That much he was sure of.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

If it was any consolation, Gibbs was brusque with everyone – and not just Tony – throughout the course of the investigation. At one point he even raised his voice to Abby when she questioned him about his theory, and Gibbs never shouted at Abby. Something definitely wasn't right in Gibbs-land.

It only took a few days and a couple of false leads to determine that Senator Patrick Kiley and his wife had murdered the senator's mistress, Carrie McLellan. They had also suffocated Kiley's chief of staff in an attempt to cover up their crime.

Tony never thought he'd see the day when Gibbs allowed sentiment and an old friendship to cloud his judgment but was pretty obvious to him that Gibbs had ignored his gut on that one before he came to his senses.

It must have cut Gibbs to the core to discover that his friends of many years had been lying to his face. The senator and his wife had used him and he'd had fallen for it. "You traded on our friendship," Gibbs said, his whole body stiff with outrage when he arrested Kiley on murder charges. Tony didn't like to engage in 'what ifs' but it was obvious that if they had confronted the senator after the first murder, his chief of staff would still be alive. No wonder Gibbs had been acting like a bear, with something like that weighing heavily on him.

Gibbs apologized to Abby, with a kiss and a few words in her ear, but he seemed to be struggling with something and his mood remained dark for days.

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Ziva leaned casually against her desk and fanned herself with her passport, smiling smugly when she saw Tony eyeing her.

He stepped out from behind his desk and sauntered over to ask, "And where are you going, my little world traveler? Back to Israel now that the case is over?"

McGee tore his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to explain, "Europe, to work with the joint task force that's investigating that gunrunning operation.

"The one that's using bogus Navy vessels for transport?" asked Tony.

"Mmm. I am going to sunny Italy, Spain…Portugal," Ziva said with a dreamy smile. "I can work on my tan while I am working."

Tony turned to McGee and demanded, "Italy? Portugal? Why does she get to go to Europe and not me, McTravelPlans?"

McGee picked up a soda he had on his desk and shrugged. "Girls just get to have fun?"

"'I wanna be the one to walk in the sun'?" Tony asked.

"With heavy weapons," McGee pointed out.

Ziva's chin went up. "First of all, I am fluent in six more languages than you are, Tony. And second, while McGee and I have been working hard for the past four months, you have been cruising for Navy men."

McGee choked on his soda and Ziva sent him a puzzled frown. "Is that not correct?"

"Only if you think that Tony is really Al Pacino," McGee said with a laugh. "I don't think Tony was cruising, Ziva."

"Whoa, McEntertainment," said Tony, delighted. "I can see you've spent your summer honing your movie skills. Going places you've never been before?"

Turning pink, McGee admitted, "Abby made me watch Cruising, and Sea of Love, too."

Tony said enthusiastically, "Oh yeah, Pacino with Ellen Barkin! Hot hot love scenes."

Gibbs swept into the bullpen, coffee in one hand, paperwork in the other. "Yeah, well things are gonna get hot around here real soon, DiNozzo, if you don't get back to work. Ziva, get a move on. Don't miss your flight. McGee, you've been scheduled to testify on the Steiner case starting tomorrow." He slapped the papers on McGee's desk before turning to look Tony up and down. "Looks like it's going to be just you and me, DiNozzo. Think you can handle that?"

A smile slowly spread across Tony's face until it became a grin. "Hey, just like old times, Boss! We handled all our cases just fine for over a year, the two of us. Our close rate was the best." He smirked at Ziva, who was busy checking her firearm while pretending she wasn't listening. "No probies to slow us down."

Ziva rolled her eyes and zippered her bag.

Gibbs countered, "Let's hope you don't make the same old probie mistakes, DiNozzo, like using the cooler for your cans of soda instead of putting the evidence in it."

Tony cringed at the memory. "That only happened once and, in my own defense, it was a really hot day."

"All the more reason to use the cold box for the evidence," Gibbs retorted sharply.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Ziva paused at Tony's desk on her way out. "P-p-probie," she taunted in a loud whisper.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Working closely with Gibbs without the buffer of his teammates put a whole new spin on things.

Gibbs seemed to enjoy having Tony all to himself, but not in a good way. All of a sudden he was treating Tony like a freshman pledge, pushing him hard and giving him all the grunt work. Well, of course he had to, Tony reasoned, as there wasn't anyone else to do it. Still, Gibbs was being a bit too enthusiastic about ordering Tony to dig through dumpsters and crawl under cars sitting in pools of oil in search of evidence.

Brushing off his soiled pants after a foray into a particularly filthy alleyway, Tony suggested hopefully, "How about we commandeer one of the junior agents? Just for a few days? Can I have my very own probie, please?"

Gibbs snapped, "You get soft while you were out on the Seahawk, DiNozzo? You need a wet-behind-the-ears probie to do your work for you now?"

What could he say? No, I worked my ass off when I was on board, Boss, just like I've always done, which you know damned well since I've been working with you for the past seven years. On board I dealt with ID fraud, illegal gambling, smuggling and theft on both ships, and a serious breach of security on the Reagan – all on my own.

Tony forced himself to smile while he said, "Yeah, must have been all the time I spent sunning myself on the poop deck that made me soft. You know those big ships just run themselves."

When Gibbs slapped the back of his head, it was no more than a tap, and Tony noticed that Gibbs didn't have his usual satisfied expression on his face afterwards. He almost seemed dispirited as he walked away. Yes, there was definitely something going on with the man and it gave Tony a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

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Tony had always been able to read his boss but now things weren't so clear. It was as if Gibbs was purposely trying to rile him, and if that's what he intended, he was doing a damned good job of it. Even Abby thought that Gibbs had a bug up his ass, and this was coming from the woman who always thought that Gibbs could do no wrong.

Tony ran down to talk to Abby in her lab as soon as Gibbs went into a meeting upstairs. He asked softly, "Abby, do you think this is about Jenny getting killed?"

"You think he blames you for that?" Abby shook her head but Tony could see her thinking it through. "No," she said decisively. "Gibbs might have been angry and upset, but he knew Madame Director well enough to know she manipulated you, Tony. You and Mike Franks, although Mike probably went along with her scheme for kicks because ever since he retired he's been bored out of his skull, although spending all day drinking and fishing on a beautiful beach in the Baja isn't the worst way to live out your days…unless you're a retired agent who's looking for something to do because you're bored out of your skull." Abby stopped and shook her head a little to get back on track. "You were caught between a rock and a hard place, Tony. Gibbs understands. I know he does, and he can't hold it against you when Jenny gave you a direct order to keep the hell out of her personal mission." Abby gave Tony a big hug as if that would make everything all better.

It didn't, not by a long shot, even if it was nice.

That afternoon, Tony's request for a day off later sometime that week resulted in a glare from Gibbs and a flat out, "No."

Tony wasn't looking for any special favors but he needed time to breathe after coming off four months at sea. Not only was his housing situation not sorted out yet, but most of his belongings were still in transit from the Seahawk. Probably lost at sea, the way his luck was going. The rest of his things were locked in a storage facility and he hadn't had a chance to get them out. Not that he could keep more than the minimum of clothing and personal items on hand because Palmer's place was pretty small.

Tony sighed and looked at his boss, who was slowly but efficiently working his way through a pile of case-related paperwork. He noticed the lines near Gibbs' mouth, and creases around his eyes that hadn't been quite so obvious a few months ago. It was obvious that the stress of the job was taking its toll, and Tony kicked himself for being just one more reason that Gibbs was having a hard time lately.

Tony opened the bottom drawer of his desk, the one where he kept Gibbs' medals, and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He went over to stand in front of Gibbs' desk and when Gibbs paid no attention, Tony cleared his throat.

Very slowly, Gibbs looked up, his expression unreadable.

Tony almost retreated but he now knew this remote expression was just a reflection of whatever was wrong with his boss. It was up to him to do his part to make things easier for Gibbs in any way he could. He reached out and took the pile of papers Gibbs had been making his way through. "I'll take care of these, Boss," said Tony. "Oh, and here's a spare pair of your reading glasses. I'll order a few extra, just in case."

Gibbs stared at Tony for a long moment and then nodded curtly. Tony put the eyeglasses on Gibbs' desk and went back to work, thinking that this was like chipping at an impenetrable rock.

Tony was still plugging away at the paperwork two hours later when Gibbs plunked a cup of coffee down in front of him. "Oh, thanks," Tony said, grateful for the coffee. It might be small gesture but Tony knew that it was Gibbs' way of apologizing.

Gibbs nodded and said, "Don't work too late on those papers."

"No, Boss. I can finish them in a couple of hours." More like three, thought Tony, glancing at the clock. He'd be home by midnight but that was okay.

Gibbs nodded and the corner of his mouth lifted just a little and Tony smiled back. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as he'd thought and now that the team was back together, Gibbs would revert to his usual self.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony stood shoulder to shoulder with Gibbs in front of the plasma screen while he clicked through the information he'd put together on their latest case. "Lieutenant Joseph Hannaford was found dead in his bunk aboard the US Naval hospital ship Mercy. The doctor who performed the shipboard autopsy concluded that the lieutenant had died from an overdose of his own prescription medication."

"Who's the agent on board?" asked Gibbs, looking interested.

"The Agent Afloat is Special Agent Kennedy. He conducted an investigation and determined the lieutenant's death to be a suicide." Looking at Gibbs, Tony said, "And you have a conference scheduled with him in MTAC in ten minutes, Boss. Director Vance says he wants another set of eyes on this. Apparently he knew Lieutenant Hannaford and he expects us to make sure the investigation is thorough." Tony managed, barely, to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Gibbs snapped, "Our investigations are always thorough."

"Yes, Boss. That's exactly what I told him."

Gibbs eyed Tony and after a moment grunted and said, "You're with me, DiNozzo."

Tony happily followed Gibbs up to MTAC and stood at his side during the brief conference with the agent aboard the hospital ship. As soon as the introductions were made, Director Vance joined them and stood on Gibbs' other side without greeting him.

Special Agent Kennedy gave them the details of the case and then said that it bothered him that there was nothing to indicate that Lieutenant Hannaford had been contemplating taking his own life. "He was steady, hard-working, and dedicated, and he wasn't involved in anything classified. His friends and colleagues onboard are shocked. Nobody saw any sign of depression or mental instability."

Vance ordered Special Agent Kennedy to have the body transferred to NCIS headquarters. "I want Dr. Mallard to perform a second autopsy, Kennedy. We need to make sure."

Up on the big screen, Kennedy looked relieved. "I'll have the remains transferred stateside on the next transport, Director Vance. Oh, and uh, Lieutenant Hannaford kept an apartment in DC. It'll be a real pain for me to leave the ship right now. Think your guys can run out there and check it out?"

Vance didn't even look at Gibbs and Tony when he said, "My people will investigate from this end."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"No signs of struggle or use of force," Ducky determined, once the body had been transferred to NCIS and he'd completed the second autopsy. "Most people who commit suicide do not leave a note, nor do they give any indication they want to take their own lives."

"Do we need to go out to the Mercy?" Gibbs asked as he looked through the photographs of the crime scene that Special Agent Kennedy had sent along with the body.

Ducky peered at him over the top of his glasses. "I cannot see any need for you to make the trip, Jethro. The evidence is quite clear-cut. Death by suicide."

"If you say it's suicide, Duck, then that's what it is," Gibbs said. "Let's wrap this up and get the report to Vance."

"Thank God," Tony muttered. The last thing he wanted was an investigation that took them out to sea. He'd had enough of big ships and vast oceans to last him a lifetime.

Gibbs frowned at Tony across the autopsy table. "You got a problem with going wherever this investigation takes, us DiNozzo? Because if you do…"

Tony met Gibbs' hard gaze head on, just to let Gibbs know he was up to any challenge. "No problem, Boss. It's just that since I got back from the Seahawk my equilibrium has been off. I think I still have seawater sloshing around in my inner ear." Tony made a big deal out of sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it around. Gibbs didn't look impressed but at least he got Ducky to chuckle.

As soon as they got up to the bullpen Gibbs yanked his desk drawer open and tossed a small box at Tony. Tony scrambled to catch it and asked, looking at the packaging, "What's this?"

"Dramamine," Gibbs said curtly.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

When Tony entered Autopsy, he found Dr. Mallard about to slide Lieutenant Hannaford's body into one of the cold units at the far side of the room.

"Hey, Ducky. I need you to sign off on this report," Tony said, looking over Lieutenant Hannaford's body with an investigator's eye. Even in death, the man was handsome. His hair was graying at the temples but he was physically fit. In life, Hannaford had been tanned and there were creases around his eyes suggesting a lot of time spent outdoors, making Tony wonder what the man had looked like when he laughed. He hated suicides; they made no sense, although the victim might say otherwise. Tony wondered, had something significant occurred to make the lieutenant take his life or had it been a slow sapping of energy and spirit over months, or even years?

Tony glanced up to find Ducky watching him so he explained, "I was just wondering what was so bad in his life that he felt he had to end it. By all accounts he enjoyed his job only…only Hannaford has been at the same rank for nine years and he was going to be fifty-five in a few weeks. Retirement was looming."

"Some men's jobs are their lives, and they can't see past it." Ducky suggested. "I enjoy my job immensely, but at the end of every day I can walk away from it and go home. There is so much to enjoy outside of this place – theater and music, fine dining and the company of friends." He pulled the sheet over the lieutenant's face and slowly slid the body into the wall. He closed the door gently but, in the large tiled room, it gave a resounding clang.

It sounded so final and so cold that Tony shivered a little. He said quietly, almost to himself, "When I was on the ship, even though there were thousands of people around me, and even though I got to go ashore, I felt…disconnected, isolated. I didn't belong there, and it was like I was becoming…someone else."

Ducky stripped off his gloves and dropped them in the waste bin then walked over to the sink to wash his hands and Tony followed him. The ME asked, "Are you still a man without a country, so to speak, Anthony? Have you settled back into your own home?"

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, the couple I sublet my condo to isn't in a position to vacate." He shrugged. "We agreed on two years and I have to honor that. In the meantime…"

"Bunking with friends can be trying," Ducky said sympathetically as he signed the paperwork Tony gave him. "I have been remiss in not offering earlier, but my guest room is yours for as long as you like, although it does come with strings attached."

Ducky meant his mother, of course, and although Tony liked Mrs. Mallard a lot, he didn't think he could remain in the same house as her for more than a few hours. "I appreciate that, Ducky, but right now I'm okay where I am. The quarters are a lot less cramped than on the Seahawk, that's for sure," he said lightly. "Better get back upstairs before Cap'n Gibbs decides to keelhaul me."

"Ah yes, keelhauling. A punishment meted out by the Dutch Navy from the 16th century until around 1850, I believe. If the unfortunate sailor didn't drown from being dragged under the hull of the ship, he would most likely be flayed by the barnacles, or worse. Loss of limbs and decapitation were not uncommon as a result of the barbaric punishment. But about Gibbs…perhaps his mood will improve once Ziva and Timothy have returned from their respective duties in a few days."

Tony smiled in reply, but he didn't think that Gibbs' problem stemmed from Ziva and Tim's absence. It had started before they'd left and seemed to be directed solely at him. "Hey, I'll survive, Ducky. It's just like old times working with Gibbs. When I first joined NCIS, we were the only two on the team for over a year, remember? And we didn't kill each other then. I know the routine by heart: Gibbs growls and I jump. Gibbs ignores me and I jump."

The transition from being the only officer of the law aboard a huge vessel, responsible for keeping 5000 men on the straight-and-narrow, to working under Gibbs and being a team player required a little acclimation. Not that Tony was complaining, because there hadn't been a moment when he was Agent Afloat that he hadn't yearned to be back on Gibbs' team. It was just that he didn't understand why Gibbs was acting so grouchy towards him. Not hostile, exactly, but Tony kept catching Gibbs staring at him like he was pissed off about something, and whatever that something was, it appeared to have something to do with him.

The few times that Tony had said something nice, like how glad he was to be home again, or when he joked around, trying to lighten the mood a bit, his boss's expression had darkened – which was not the result that Tony had been expecting. It was unsettling, and although Tony didn't want to believe it, he was beginning to get the feeling that Gibbs might not want him back.

Ducky patted Tony's shoulder and assured him, "Jethro is not such a hard man as he seems on the outside. A tough nut to crack, as you know, but as you know, once you get him to open up a little he's perfectly accessible. Or maybe I'm thinking of a clam," he mused.

Tony looked askance at Ducky. "Nut or clam, we are talking about Jethro Gibbs, right? The man who is a candidate for a place of honor up on Mount Rushmore? The guy who told me, only this morning, that if I didn't get the evidence – which was a bathroom full of glass shards – bagged in five minutes, he was going to hand me a toothbrush and put me on latrine duty?"

"Oh dear."

"Exactly. Um…you don't happen to know what's wrong with him, do you? Or maybe it's me."

"I doubt it is you, my boy, although it might be about you. You see, Jethro was quite upset as a result of a conversation he had with Director Vance, and that was…let's see…yes, it was three days before you returned. Just prior to the investigation into the deaths of Lieutenant Evans and his wife. The director was quite firm that you were to remain on the Seahawk until your tour was complete, and he was even talking about extending it."

"The full two years?" Damn, he had been pretty sure that Vance had been making it personal and that just confirmed it.

"Only you did return, so someone must have given the orders, Anthony. I would deduce that Jethro managed to twist the appropriate arm in order to have you released from your assignment and returned to the bosom of your family."

"You been listening at keyholes, Duck?" asked Tony with mock dismay.

"Of course not. I would not stoop so low as to put my ear to the door. Besides, I have this." He held up a stethoscope for Tony to see, and smiled wickedly.

Tony laughed but after a moment sobered up. "So…we're still family?"

"Of course we are, my boy. We always were. Even close-knit families squabble and have misunderstandings," Ducky replied, as if Tony was being ridiculous for questioning it. He handed Tony the paperwork on the Kennedy case. "Now, don't mind Jethro's mood. Whatever it is, he'll figure it out on his own, as he always does, and then everything will be back to normal."

Normal, what was normal? Right now he had no idea. "Thanks, Ducky," Tony said and headed for the elevator, smiling because it looked like Gibbs had fought for him, after all. But whose arm had he twisted? Maybe now Gibbs owed someone higher up a big favor, and he was worried. Could be that was why he was being so unapproachable. Tony sighed. Even if Gibbs liked to sort things out on his own, without interference from anyone, even his friends, Tony was going to have a talk with him. He was determined to face Gibbs and ask what he'd done to bring him home, and at what cost. God, he hoped that Gibbs hadn't gotten into trouble over it.

Before the elevator doors closed, Jimmy Palmer slipped in, carrying a thick folder. Tony asked, "That for my team, or I should say, my duo?"

Palmer shook his head. "No, it's for Owen's team. Say, I have this yearning for pork chops and gravy. Green beans and mushroom gravy sound good? You eating at home tonight? Because I'm cooking."

"Depends on the boss, but I'd like a home-cooked meal. I think there's a bottle of white wine left from the other night. You want me to pick up something for dessert?"

"That'd be good. Seven o'clock okay?"

"Sure. I'll call if I can't make it."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jimmy waved goodbye and shot out ahead of Tony.

With Ziva and Tim absent, Gibbs was the only agent working in the bullpen. As soon as Tony sat at his desk his phone rang. After a short conversation, he hung up and spoke to Gibbs, who hadn't even raised his eyes when Tony had returned. "Uh, Boss, that call was from the super at Lieutenant Hannaford's apartment building."

Gibbs looked up and sent Tony a 'So what's the rest of the story?' stare.

"The super, Mr. Kavechni, says that someone tried to break into Hannaford's apartment last night." Tony picked up his notepad even though he knew the facts. It saved the need to meet Gibbs' piercing blue eyes. "There has been a rash of break-ins the past couple of months. Mostly electronics, jewelry, standard breaking and entering loot. A neighbor passing by interrupted the guy jimmying our lieutenant's door but he was so scared he didn't get a good description. Young, scruffy, with blond longish hair. Said he was big, maybe 250 pounds." It didn't sound like it had anything to do with their suicidal lieutenant to Tony, but you never knew.

Gibbs glanced at his watch and said, "Go and check it out yourself. And DiNozzo, take Balboa."

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